Pride, Prejudice, and An Old Rivalry
by BookRookie12
Summary: Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of Westbrook in Northamptonshire, visits her Hertfordshire relations, where she unexpectedly encounters an old university rival of her brother's: proud, haughty Mr. Darcy. When she meets his shy, generous sister, Elizabeth is sorely confused. What stands in her way is pride, prejudice, and an old rivalry that might yet destroy her.
1. Prologue: A Friend's Consent

**This story is based on a plot bunny provided by FanFictionAddict13 on the forum 'Talk P &P'. There are others, but here's the one I'm working with, copied word for word off the site: **Elizabeth is a relative of the Bennett family, she still takes offense at comments about them but she herself is a well bred lady of an esteemed estate. She returns to her own family after the first assembly and Mr. Darcy's offensive comments because of a family emergency, she has an older brother who dotes on her as Darcy does Georgiana. Her father is known to have married beneath him but the entire family believes in marriage for love.

 **Credits to FanFictionAddict13! You inspired this story!**

"It is for only two or three months, Darcy!" Charles pleaded.

"Out of the question!" his friend snapped. "I would not leave Georgiana at this time for anything in the world."

"That is no problem," Charles replied. "You can bring Georgiana with you to Netherfield."

"Are you joking, Bingley? Are you mad? You know how your sister is - what kind of brother would I be to expose Georgiana to her simpering after - after Ramsgate?" Darcy slammed down the letter he had been perusing. "Now, if you cannot provide any more inducements to me, I shall return to my business, thank you very much!"

"I looked a bit into the families in the area," Charles offered. "Apparently there are Bennets who live nearby!"

"Bennets? What care I for them?" Darcy said, his eyes scanning the correspondence in front of him.

"Oh, Darcy, do you not recall?" Charles asked in the closest thing Charles Bingley could come to exasperation. His ginger hair was wild, but his bluish-grey eyes shone beneath his kindly brows. "Do you not remember our old schoolmate at Cambridge - Edmund Bennet?"

"Edmund Bennet? Yes, I remember him; but why should I be inclined to go to Hertfordshire for the chance of seeing him? I never cared much for Bennet - barely spoke to him, in fact." Darcy did not raise his eyes to his friend as he drafted out a reply to one of his letters.

"Of course you did not," Charles said. "He was your rival in everything, and, as you say, rivals do not befriend each other."

"No, they do not," Darcy said with an air of finality. "Friends may become rivals, but no two rivals can befriend each other with no ulterior motives."

"Still, I always wondered why neither of you bothered to speak to each other. You were very alike, you know - always cooped up in the library or in the fencing rooms - or studying." Charles looked curiously at his friend. "I even know for a fact that Edmund Bennet befriended everyone at Cambridge but you."

"Exactly," said Darcy. "Even you befriended him - but then, you befriend everybody. Still, I have no reason to believe he was any better than those other young men at Cambridge: dissolute, lazy, and irresponsible. After all, you are the company you keep - with the exception of you and me, Charles, because you are agreeable and friendly, while I am generally not."

"I happen to know for a fact that this Bennet family is the same Bennet family Mr. Bennet belongs to," Charles said triumphantly. "And, for the record, Edmund was almost exactly like you - fastidious, scrupulous, and punctual. I also know that he was very responsible, looked after himself, and departed after graduation to care for his father, just as you did for yours."

" _And?_ "

"And his uncle, Mr. Thomas Bennet, inherited Longbourn from a great-uncle. I remember Edmund saying that his father and uncle Thomas were almost copies of one another, except for that Thomas Bennet is apparently more indolent than Walter Bennet."

"That closes the case, Bingley," Darcy said. "I will not keep company with an indolent layabout. If you have no more to say, begone." He stopped, and sank his head into his hands. "I apologize. Bingley, you were not the cause of my bad mood, and you should not have to suffer the consequences. If only I could find that blackguard Wickham and call him out!"

"It is alright; you are distraught," Charles said gently. "Perhaps a change of scenery might do both you and Miss Darcy good. Hertfordshire might be a palace of vacation for both of you if you will allow it. And no, I shall not require Georgiana's presence at social events. She shall not have to receive visitors at all, and I will not allow Caroline to harrass her."

Darcy looked up from his hands and sighed the sigh of a tortured man who has been set free. "Very well, Charles, Georgiana and I will accompany you to Hertfordshire."


	2. An Old Rival

**EDMUND BENNET**

* * *

I stared out the carriage window into the early evening outside. My sister leaned against me, her eyes half-closed from the soothing rattle of the carriage. Thank Heavens we were able to escape Aunt Frances and her incessant exclamations about her nerves and her daughters. I have absolutely no idea why she still wants to marry all our cousins off even though there is no real threat. Although the estate, Longbourn, is entailed on the male line, I am the eldest of the Bennets at eight-and-twenty, and so am the heir apparent. In addition, the income of the estate, thanks to me and Mr. Gardiner, has been been raised to four thousand a year instead of barely two.

Besides, even in the highly unlikely instance of my early death, and Elizabeth's consequent inheritance of Westbrook, there would still be Benedict and Francis, my other cousins. I find it fortunate that Westbrook, unlike Longbourn, is not entailed on the males of the Bennet family.

Elizabeth stirred next to me. "Are we there yet?" she asked sleepily. I smiled. Elizabeth was not usually one to sleep on a carriage ride, but the effusions of Aunt Frances seemed to have tired her out today. "No, not yet, sweetling," I replied.

She laughed. "Edmund, please stop using your old pet names for me!"

"Why? You _are_ very sweet, sister mine, except that you can be a bit sour when you want to be!" My smile faded. I still have that inscrutable manner that, Lizzy says, would make me look very disagreeable if I were not so welcoming in air. My manners have improved, it seems, since my days at Cambridge. Perhaps it was because of Darcy; he showed me how lonely such an existence can be.

However, I put an end to my woolgathering and roused myself as the carriage pulled to a stop outside the Meryton Assembly Hall. Despite Aunt Frances' nerves and her constant pestering for all of us, not to mention my own annoyance at being dragged into society, I was excited. This was my first Meryton Assembly, even though I had been visiting here since I was four, before Elizabeth was even born.

"Say the word, Lizzibeth, and I shall come to your defence, regardless of where I am or what I am doing," I reminded my little sister. She was under my sole guardianship, since I had been of age when our parents died, and I understandably felt very protective of her.

"You know I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, brother," Lizzy reminded me, rolling her dark green eyes. Mine are green as well, but emerald green, with a ring of light blue around it. Her hair is brunette, while mine is darker, almost black. Tonight Elizabeth wore a green gown that matched her eyes, with a gold-coloured sash and black slippers with gold embroidery. She also wore a black-green-and-gold flower pin in her hair. To a partial older brother, she was easily the most beautiful girl there.

"Aye, I dare say I do, but still, is an older brother not allowed to worry?" I nudged her as I offered her my arm, which she took. Beyond, I could see the Longbourn carriage pulling up and Aunt Frances and my cousins piling out. I could see the blue of Jane's gown, the gold of Mary's, the lavender of Kitty's, and the bright pink monstrosity that was Lydia's gown.

I smiled to myself as I led my sister inside. "Shall I go?" I asked. "I must perform my duty as a gentleman and ask ladies to dance." I grimaced at the awkwardness of my words as they came out of my mouth. This was what social functions did to me: made me a stuttering fool who could hardly speak without saying something foolish or wrong. This was why I dislike social functions so much, and why I keep silent.

"Go on, brother," Lizzy said. In a much-welcomed show of affection, she kissed my cheek. "Now, try not to be _too_ taciturn tonight, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," I agreed, which made her laugh, and I stepped away to look at the room. It was full of young ladies who were not only excited about the arrival of Mr. Bingley, but that of Mr. Bennet as well. I did earn ten thousand a year, after all. I knew, because they were staring at me and my sister. "Cousin Jane," I said, to my eldest female cousin, "may I have the honour of this dance?"

"You may, Cousin Edmund," Jane replied, smiling in that serene way of hers. I knew, however, the strong woman who hid behind that demure mask. However polite and ladylike she may be, Jane is a formidable young woman. She has a slow temper and a loyal heart, and almost nothing will keep her from her sisters and cousins. Her favour is easily gained, but her love is harder won. I am her fierce defender, since her father will not do much.

As I led her to the line of dancers, I noticed that Elizabeth was to dance with John Lucas. John was a childhood friend of ours, and I trusted him with my sister, even if I could not trust him with anything else.

When my dance with Jane ended, I was on my way to securing Mary's hand for her next set when I was stopped by a commotion at the entrance. A small procession of two ladies and three gentlemen wound their way through the willing crowd to Sir William, who was standing near the orchestra.

Intrigued, I wove through people, Elizabeth following close behind, to stand beside my cousins. Aunt Frances fussed over Jane and Lydia, and rebuked Mary for letting her hair be mussed. I smirked to myself; Mary is very much like Elizabeth: lively, willful, and generous. However, Mary does not posses that talent for teasing Lizzy does.

"So that is our Mr. Bingley," Lizzy murmured to me.

I looked. At the head of the small procession was a head of straight but wild ginger hair I knew very well. It was, indeed, Charles Bingley. Bingley had been a very jovial, congenial fellow at university, although he was something of an outcast for his parentage. I befriended him easily, though I was not so easy with his _friend_ , Darcy.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered. For there, at the end of the line, was a tall, proud figure I could never forget. His dark hair served as confirmation: it was definitely Darcy. Immediately my competitive spirit rose up in me as it had the first time we faced each other on the the fencing strip.

As for the others - the ginger-haired, disdainful woman on Bingley's arm was probably his younger sister. I almost laughed at her ridiculous orange dress. I had to admit that it would have been fashionable, had it not been so liberally embellished. And the sparrow of a woman who clung to the portly, sleepy man behind Bingley was probably his married sister. Her gown was similar to her sister's, but a deep red instead of bright orange. The sleepy-looking man with bushy sideburns and brown clothes was likely her husband, then.

I could concede that Darcy was probably the best dressed of the party. Bingley's blue coat was not the best choice of colour, as its brightness clashed somewhat with his ginger hair. Darcy, on the other hand, wore an elegant black evening coat, with a gold-and-gray striped waistcoat underneath. He had good taste, I had always admitted that.

And then there we were, Aunt Frances bustling up to Sir William to ask for an introduction. Of course, he got it for her.

"Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Darcy, this is Mrs. Bennet," Sir William began, opening with my uncle's wife, "Miss Jane, Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia of Longbourn. These are their relatoins, Mr. Edmund and Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Westbrook."

I noticed that Darcy stiffened upon hearing my name. I threw my head back and stared him down. His cerulean eyes, with their golden ring, regarded me as coolly as ever, but with a certain amount of regret. Was he regretting his rivalry with me? If so, I might give him the benefit of the doubt. I gazed at him curiously, and he nodded politely and gave me a small smile.

I nodded back. This was surprising.

I turned back to the others of the Netherfield party. "It is a pleasure, I am sure," Miss Bingley said, coldly to my cousins, but rather too warmly to me and Elizabeth. I glared at her. Last I had heard, she had set her cap for Darcy. Why me? I looked at Darcy, jerked my head towards Miss Bingley, and rolled my eyes. He actually smirked, and nodded.

"I did not expect you here, Mr. Darcy," said I to the Master of Pemberley.

"Neither did I you, Mr. Bennet," Darcy replied. "It was something of a surprise, although I cannot say it has been... entirely unpleasant." He cocked his head and looked at me. I nodded and said, "I myself was not expecting to see you here, so far from Derbyshire."

"Bingley has leased Netherfield Park." Darcy shrugged. "Of course I would come."

"What for?"

"To see for myself, as well as to advise Charles on whatever he may need. And no, Bennet," he added, noticing my look of disapproval, "I did not come uninvited. Bingley was the one to ask me."

"What of your sister?" I asked. I did not know even Miss Darcy's name, but I did know that she existed, thanks to the ton of London and its gossip.

He looked uncomfortable. "She is well." It was not an outright falsehood, but I could tell by his discomfiture that this was not the whole truth. Darcy and I knew each other to the twitch of a finger, despite having once been rivals almost to the point of being enemies. Seeing his roving eyes, when he usually looked intensely at whoever he was conversing with, I could say with certainty that he was hiding something, even if he was not out-and-out lying.

But I let it be. "You have been introduced to my own sister, I know," said I, hoping that he would reply.

However, he did not, and instead moved off to one corner of the room with nothing but a curt, "Excuse me, Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet," to me and Lizzy.

"How did he know you, Edmund?" Lizzy asked me.

"We were rivals at university, ever since we ended in a tie in a fencing duel in first year. I tried to be friendly, but all he would say to me, besides the usual greetings, was, 'Rivals cannot be friends'. By summer term in second year, we had already established a mutual, unspoken agreement: that we would not even try to befriend each other. We were both too competitive for that. I do regret not trying harder when he was still amenable to it, though."

"Oh. So he is the Darcy you wrote about, the one who is always contesting you?" Lizzy asked, walking with me back to her seat.

"Yes. The fact that we were equals in both birth and status did not help our rivalry. We were evenly matched in everything: wits, wills, brains, brawn, family, and fortune." I smiled at my sister. "Darcy and I, at least according to his friend Bingley, are very similar, and would be very good friends if we only tried. I wish I had."

Just then, though the dancing was to start up again, and I sought out my cousin Mary in order to solicit her hand for the next set. I was extremely fond of Mary, but she was rather flat, having Lizzy's lively personality but nothing of her teasing ways.

Darcy was standing in a corner, and while I wanted to talk to him, I supposed I could wait until later. After all, there _was_ a scarcity of gentlemen here, and if Darcy could not be counted on to do his duty, Edmund Bennet certainly could be relied upon to do _his_.

I danced the two second, as aforesaid, with Mary, the two third with Kitty, the two fourth with Lydia, and the two fifth with Mary King. For the two second and two third, Lizzy partnered with William Goulding and Andrew Hopkins, respectively. However, she was forced to sit out the next two dances. After my set with Mary King had ended, I led her to her uncle, who had been dancing with Maria Lucas.

I saw Bingley approach Darcy, who was standing near Lizzy and Mary. I could not hear what they were saying, but at the end of their conversation, Bingley apparently gave up and walked away, while Darcy stalked to another corner of the room. Lizzy seemed strangely disturbed, but rose to talk to Mary's friend Charlotte Lucas, the eldest of the Lucas children, and the wisest.

They were laughing over something when I finally reached them. "Pray tell me what is so amusing," I requested.

Elizabeth suddenly looked alarmed, and while Charlotte looked as though she wanted to comply with my request, Lizzy's hand on her arm prevented her from doing so. "It is nothing, brother, simply a small anecdote I wished to tell Charlotte."

"Lizzy," I warned. "Do you seriously want another battle of wills here in the Assembly Hall?" We were both known for our stubbornness, and when we decided to go against each other, it was a hopeless cause. Too obstinate to give in, one would usually only cave at the urging of a third party.

She sighed, although her eyes danced with mischief. "Alright, Edmund, if you want to have a battle of wills, it will not be with me. It was merely a remark I overheard from Mr. Darcy."

Immediately my temper began to smoulder, both at my sister and my old rival. "Lizzy, what did I tell you about eavesdropping?"

"I did not overhear it on purpose," Elizabeth protested.

"Very well, I shall accept that excuse - for now. What is this remark that you were so eager to relate to Miss Lucas?"

Lizzy immediately stiffened. I knew that this was a sensitive matter for her, and I tried to make it as easy as possible. God help Darcy is he had said something to upset my little sister. He would get the full wrath of Edmund Bennet crashing down on him.

"Edmund, please, it really is nothing," she told me, almost desperately.

"You are an awful liar, Lizzibeth," I stated bluntly. "And for that I am glad - at least in this instance. Now spit it out!"

She took a deep breath, and rushed out the words "She-is-tolerable-but-not-handsome-enough-to-tempt-me-I-am-in-no-humour-at-present-to-give-consequence-to-young-ladies-who-are-slighted-by-other-men." I understood that there were supposed to be pauses that Lizzy had decided to forgo just to get it all out quickly.

My expression darkened. "Where is that Darcy?" I growled, looking around for him.

Elizabeth looked spooked, poor girl. That was probably because she had not seen me in such a temper since I was fifteen and she seven. That had been thirteen years ago, and my rage was more ineffectual then than now.

"Edmund, no!" she ordered me, forcefully. "No!"

"Lizzy, leave this to me. That man insulted you - that is quite enough for me."

"No!" Lizzy repeated. "If overhearing those comments was mortifying for _my_ pride, how much more humiliating would being taken to task for it, in pubic, be for _his?_ Edmund, I know you are angry, but we must also consider his feelings on the matter."

"You are too kind, Lizzy," I spat, attempting to push past her. "He does not deserve such conseideration."

"It was only a passing remark, Edmund!"

"What makes that remark worse was that it was within your earshot, and that we are equal to him in every way!" I snapped sharply. "Stand aside, Elizabeth, and let me deal with this."

" _Listen_ , Edmund Walter Francis Bennet!" Elizabeth cried forcefully, yanking my cravat to make me look her right in the eyes. "You - will - _not_ \- confront - Darcy - now," she enunciated carefully and slowly, as though talking to a child. "You may do it in private, but never, _never_ chastise a man for careless remarks in public!"

I immediately recollected Papa's own words to me: " _Do what you like with a man in private, Edmund, but never, never humiliate him by taking him to task for foolish actions in public. It is rude, ungentlemanly, and unseemly of one of our station._ "

"I apologize, Lizzy," said I, straightening, although I was still very offended. "But I swear, my dearest sister, that once I have even a semi-private moment with Darcy, the first order of business is that insult."

I walked away, silently steaming. If there came any opportunity to confront Darcy for this, my old rival would pay in full for the slight he had given my sister.

* * *

 **So I decided to change things up a bit. Since all my other stories are told in third person omniscient, I made the huge jump over to shifting first person. The next chapters will be told from various people's perspectives, including Darcy, Elizabeth, Georgiana, and maybe even Jane and Bingley. Next chapter - the family emergency! Gee, I wonder what it'll be?**


	3. An Urgent Matter

**EDMUND BENNET**

* * *

When we got home, Uncle Thomas was waiting for us with his nose in a book. Aunt Frances, leaving no room for either Elizabeth or me to greet our uncle, began a tirade almost immediately. "Oh, my dear Mr. Bennet," said she as she entered the room, "we have had a most delightful evening, a most excellent ball! I wish you had been there! Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked; and Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and danced with her twice! Only think of that, my dear; he actually danced with her _twice_! _And_ she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second time!

"First of all, he asked Miss Lucas - I was so vexed to see him stand up with her!" Behind her, I saw Mary making a face of protest. I chuckled, knowing that Charlotte was her dearest friend. But Aunt Frances paid her second daughter no attention, and continued: "But, however, he did not admire her at all - nobody can, you know - and he seemed quite struck with Jane as she was going down the dance. So he inquired who she was, and got introduced, and asked her for the two next! Then the two third he danced with Miss King, and the two fourth with Maria Lucas, and the two fifth with Jane again, and the two sixth with Lizzy, and the _Boulanger -_ "

"If he had had any compassion for me, he would not have danced half so much!" Uncle Thomas interrupted impatiently. Poor uncle had been trying, unsuccessfully, to attend to his book. "For God's sake, say no more of his partners. Oh, that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!"

However, Aunt Frances ignored him. "Oh, my dear, I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women! I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses - I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst's gown -"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Bennet!" Uncle Thomas snapped. "I would thank you very much to desist from any descriptions of any finery of any sort! Please!" With that request that was really more of a command, Uncle Thomas retired to his study. Knowing what effusions would come from Aunt Frances, I immediately retired to my room.

* * *

Upon rising the next day, I decided to join Lizzy for a walk, clearing my head of any anger I felt towards my old rival. When I found an opportunity, he would find what a mistake he had made in insulting Elizabeth Bennet. However, it seemed as though that opportunity had to wait for now, as there was a letter for me from Uncle Laurence. Uncle Laurence was looking after Westbrook in our absence, and I knew it would be in as good hands as my own. Opening it, I read the few lines in it, and a chill went down my spine.

"Lizzibeth!" I shouted, not caring for the groans of my sleepy youngest cousin. I clattered up the stairs and banged on her bedroom door. "Elizabeth! _Elizabeth Bennet, open your door!_ "

"Edmund!" she scolded, poking her head 'round the door. "What is this you are making such a fuss about?

"It is Francis," I gasped. "It seems he has been wounded."

" _What_? How?" Our cousin, Uncle Laurence's younger son, Francis, had joined the military only last year, at the tender age of seventeen.

"Some stupid show-off made an exhibition with his gun, and Francis was hit by the stray bullet," I replied, anger seething in my voice. "Right in the chest. Uncle Laurence pleads for us to come immediately. You know what it means. If Francis does not survive..." I choked.

"What are you standing there for? Get moving!" Elizabeth practically shoved me back to my own bedroom. "Start packing!"

"We leave in an hour," I called after her, to which I heard an "Alright!"

I folded my clothes and stuck them in my trunks with numb fingers. Francis was the youngest of my male cousins, and I and his older brother Benedict spoiled him good-naturedly. I could not bear the thought of not being in time.

"Prepare the carriage," I snapped out to the nearest footman as I dragged my trunk out of my room. "And be quick!"

"Yes sir," poor Carter responded, scurrying off. I dashed inside and changed into riding clothes - it would be quicker if I did not call Grayson - and yanked on my riding boots. "Grayson!" I yelled, and the valet came running. "Yes, Mr. Bennet?"

"Pack your things. We are returning to Westbrook."

"So - so soon, sir?" He seemed frightened by my bad temper, and I changed my tone.

"Yes. Forgive me, but there is a family emergency we simply cannot ignore. Alert my cousins if you happen to run across one of them, and let them come along if they wish."

"Yes sir," he replied, hurrying off. I quickly lugged my trunks downstairs with the help of another footman - Kirk - and went straight to Uncle Thomas's study. "Uncle," I said, knocking. "It is I, Edmund. May I enter?"

"Of course, Edmund," Uncle Thomas's muffled voice came back through the door. "The door is not locked."

"Francis is wounded," I announced, opening the study door.

"How? Surely they cannot have gone to war already," Uncle Thomas, as predicted, did not react violently, as I had. He closed his book calmly and adjuste his spectacles to look at me.

"No, but some pompous idiot decided to fool around and show off. His bullet hit Francis's chest. Uncle Laurence is requesting our immediate presence, although he adds that if you and your family cannot be spared, he will not force you."

Francis, as the dandy and the flirtatious one among us three Bennet boys, was Uncle Thomas's least favourite nephew. As I expected, he leaned back in his chair and said, "If Fanny and the girls wish to go, by all means let them go. _I_ shall remain."

I rushed out of the study, closing the door behind me, to find my trunks already loaded onto the carriage. I was relieved. "Thank you, Kirk," said I to the young footman who had just finished. "Have you seen my sister?"

He straightened. "Miss Elizabeth is already inside, Mr. Edmund, sir. She says Miss Jane is willing to accompany her, while the other three are to stay here along with Mrs. Bennet."

I nodded. Exactly what I had expected; I could even now hear Aunt Frances' shrieks of whatever it was that had gotten on her nerve this time - probably Jane's departure. I dashed up to the carriage and smiled. "All set, Lizzibeth?" It came out as a breathless question, for I was, I admit, making myself sick with worry over Francis. He was very dear to me, almost as dear as Jane, and I could not withstand the thought of him... I choked back that pessimistic thought, almost missing what Lizzy said.

"Ready, Terry," said she. "Would you like to ride with us? There is plenty of room here."

I snorted. "As if I would not know - that is _my_ carriage after all! No, sweetling, sorry. I am anxious and agitated, and you know how that makes me. I shall ride, at least until Bedfordshire." She nodded, and I dashed for the stables. Lizzy had named my horse Captain, due to his imposing air, and his white coat and black mane and tail were easily recognizable to me, as was the brownish star on his forehead.

"Hello, Captain," said I. I turned to the stable boy. "Wright, please take Captain out to the stable yard. And saddle him; I intend to ride."

"Right away, sir!" The boy scrambled to get Captain's saddle, while I, fixing my unruly curls that had gotten blown in the wind, wandered back out to the yard. When Wright brought my horse out, I hurriedly thanked him and mounted. "So, off!" I said to my sister and my cousin. I turned to the driver. "We are ready."

And so we set off.

* * *

 **Hi everyone! (Especially my wonderful followers!)**

 **So here's the new chapter you've been waiting for. If anyone wants to know I've encountered something of a writer!'s block on MTMDF, so I spun off on this tangent instead. Don't worry, I'll be back on that story!**

 **Anyway, reviews are very welcome, and I'll try to respond to them. Thank you and have a great day!**

 **\- Alex**


	4. The Thrill of Impossible Attraction

**FITZWILLIAM DARCY**

* * *

When news spread that the two Westbrook Bennets – along with their oldest Longbourn cousin – had left just after the assembly, I was hardly surprised. Bennet was my old rival, and while I knew him to be brave, I knew about the incident with the gun. In fact, it was one of the things my cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, complained about in a letter that arrived just the next morning:

 _…_ _stupid show-offs and their silly antics! Why, hardly a se'nnight ago some idiot was fooling around boasting about his marksmanship, and another idiot challenged him. The bullet went astray and hit one of the younger soldiers – a Francis Bennet, I believe, joined up last year – right in the chest! I cannot believe this… Cousin, be assured that I had the miscreant flogged soundly. Shooting for pleasure, and not taking care not to hit anyone at that! The poor boy was only eighteen!_

I, too, was somewhat inflamed at the thought of a young boy only eighteen being deprived of his life simply because some fool decided it was a good time to boast. The addlepated bastard!

However, I was somewhat surprised when, barely three weeks later, the Bennets returned. I could only assume that either their cousin had died quickly or miraculously recovered. I would see which soon enough – mourning, even for a young son in the military, was obvious.

But it was evident that their cousin had somehow survived, since Miss Bennet – no, Miss Jane – oh, what does it matter? Both are Miss Bennets anyhow! At any rate, Miss Jane and her sister Miss Mary, along with their cousin, attended the various small social functions their Aunt Phillips in Meryton saw to. Their sisters – oh, Lord! Such flirtatious girls I never saw! It is hard to believe that the younger of the two – Miss Lydia, I think – is the same age as my darling Georgiana.

In any case, the older two girls were quite nice – polite and properly observant of the rules of decorum. Miss Mary was quite a bit livelier than her sister, but I think something is wrong with me.

You see, I would not mind quite so much about their manners if Charles had not taken it into his head to court Jane Bennet. I wanted the best for my friend. He deserved it, sweet little Charles. Young Bingley is quite the younger brother I never had. He has done much to mellow me since my Eton days.

Jane Bennet was also a sweet girl – and in every way perfectly suited for Charles. She was even-tempered and serene, a rock to Charles's fickle flitting from one idea to another. Forgive me, but my best friend is hardly the most perseverant of men. But she matched Charles's happy good humour. To top it all, she was exactly the type of woman Charles liked – blond, classically beautiful, and gentle.

What was wrong was that she gave no outward sign of preference for Charles's company. She gravitated towards him at social gatherings, true, but she was very shy and did not seem to like Charles above anyone else. Her smile was the same for everybody.

I was worried that not only would Charles's fickle infatuations lead him into a loveless marriage, but that Charles would shackle Miss Jane to him when she would rather be free, waiting for a man she truly loved.

In a rather perverse way, I found myself gravitating towards Eliza – Miss Elizabeth. Once, at the Phillips' house, I sat down to play bridge with Charles and Miss Jane. Yet we needed another to play, so Miss Jane called her cousin over. Miss Elizabeth darted in like a forest nymph, smiling brightly at Jane – until she saw me.

"Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she said politely, her dark green eyes flashing.

"Good evening."

Reluctantly she sat in the only chair left vacant – the one across from me. That meant that she was my partner. I shuffled the deck and dealt it with my usual speed, and in no time at all every person had thirteen cards. Hearts... hmm, I had a lot of hearts. Should I start the bidding?

"One with diamonds," I heard Charles announce. The bidding passed to Miss Elizabeth, and she met my eye scathingly. "Two with hearts," she pronounced, and I inwardly smirked. That meant we both had more hearts than anything else.

Miss Jane spoke up. "Three with spades."

I raised it. "Four with hearts." I could see Miss Elizabeth smiling to herself, and I found myself squirming in my seat.

"Five with diamonds," Charles bid.

"Six with hearts." Miss Elizabeth's voice rang out boldly.

Finally Miss Jane gave in, giving her partner an apologetic look. Charles was disappointed, but he did not let Miss Jane see that. He straightened and gave her a wink, and she smiled – smiled like she had for no other person, not even her dearest cousin. Perhaps… perhaps I was wrong for once.

Miss Elizabeth laid down her card. "King of spades," she said brightly.

Miss Jane boldly laid down the ace of spades, earning her an impressed whistle from Charles and a grin from Miss Elizabeth. I shuffled through my hand and put down my two of spades – the other team had already won, there was no use using my higher cards. I would save them for later.

"Three of spades," Charles announced. "And Jane – er, _Miss_ Jane – wins the trick!"

She took the cards and put them on her side of the table, then took out a card and laid it down, saying, "Jack of hearts."

I whistled; my decision was clear. I put down the king of hearts – I had the ace, so no one would be able to trump me. Charles huffed and declared, "Six of hearts."

"Four of hearts," Miss Elizabeth finished. "And Mr. Darcy wins the trick."

I scooped up the cards and put them in my corner. Then I started. "Queen of clubs," I pronounced.

"Jack of clubs," Charles said.

Miss Elizabeth grinned. "King of clubs."

And that was when I knew we were doomed. For Miss Jane, I knew, would put down her ace. And lay it down she did. "Ace of clubs," she proclaimed. "And I win the trick." For a minute I saw more of the spirit of her sisters and cousin there, glinting warmly behind those blue eyes. Yes, she seemed right for Charles.

"Ace of diamonds," she called, laying it down.

I smirked. I had no diamonds, which gave me no choice but to play another card. Of course, I would play a heart. "Two of hearts and no diamonds, swear fair and square," I chanted, laying my card down. It was a family joke. My cousins Richard and Alexander and I made it up. When we laid down a trump card, we would chant whatever card and then the normal suit, just like what I had done.

Miss Elizabeth actually laughed. "Go on, Mr. Bingley," she urged my friend.

"Five of clubs," he managed, in the blandest voice possible.

And so the game went on. Eventually, Miss Elizabeth and I won nine tricks. Having met our bid, we now had three points to the other team's zero. I winked at her, and she actually winked back at me.

Those green eyes sparkled like emeralds – oh, confound it! I suddenly felt so conflicted: on the one hand, Eliza – Miss Elizabeth was on the same social footing as me, so my reputation would not be greatly harmed, at least by her directly. She was intelligent, and while she was not pretty in the classic sense, her pert little nose, heart-shaped face, and daring, expressive eyebrows were… alright-I-admit-it… rather attractive. And those eyes!

On the other hand, however, the Bennets of Longbourn were her first cousins, and they were most certainly a cause for concern, particularly the mother and the two youngest of her brood. Mrs. Bennet was shameless in her matchmaking efforts for her daughters – I vowed to make myself as disagreeable as possible to her so that she would let me alone. Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia – such unabashed flirts! They must have inherited their mother's shamelessness.

Then again, the Bennet boldness seemed as widespread among the family as the Fitzwilliam pride – or the Darcy shyness. Miss Elizabeth seemed to have as much of it as her cousins.

I was lost in these ruminations at the Lucas household, my eyes focusing on their subject. I immediately saw that there was more than a little asymmetry in her figure, but it was slender and fluid, graceful like a born dancer.

It was so frustrating! I was torn between Elizabeth and her brother – personally, I had nothing against either of them, despite Master Edmund having been my rival – and their Longbourn cousins.

However, time did not dawdle for me to decide whether or not I would pursue the lady, for Charles' sisters invited Miss Jane to dinner at Netherfield when their brother and I were out for the day, dining with the officers. It rained torrentially, and though Charles did not know who his sisters' dinner guest was, I did, and I prayed that Miss Jane should have a safe journey home. An afternoon with the Bingley sisters would try the patience of a saint.

However, it was not to be, and so I found that Miss Jane had fallen ill that very afternoon. She had come on horseback – yet another of her mother's machinations, I was certain.

Charles visited her immediately, and, before she saw me come in, her face lit up as much as one's face can light up when one has a terrible cold. "Mr. Bingley," she greeted him quietly.

I noticed the other occupant of the room, and my heart leapt into my throat, pounding painfully. Miss Elizabeth was here – oh dash it all! I did my best to stay still and look composed even though my insides were crawling with nerves and awareness. I cordially asked after Miss Jane's health – I did like her, after all – and I asked if she was being well taken care of. Charles smiled when she answered that she would be recovered soon, thanks to her cousin.

I bowed and left, my chest tightening frightfully and wonderfully. Damn it! I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. The rush of adrenaline and nervousness was a thrill I only experienced in the highest of hunts and the best of games – it was surprising to encounter it now, in the quiet of a sick lady's bedroom.

"Darcy?" Bingley called, opening the door. "Ah, there you are! Why on earth did you depart so quickly?"

"Four is far too many people for so small a room. I merely went outside to grant you three a bit more space." My eyes dropped to the ground as I lied – not very smoothly, I never lie smoothly – but for some reason Charles bit the bait.

"Oh, alright." His face relaxed, but he frowned again when his eyes found mine. "Lord, you look… pale. As though you have returned from a particularly good chase – that is peculiar! Have you been running?"

"No!" It came out as more of a gasp than an answer. "No." I forced my voice to drop back to its normal tone. I choked back the squeaky lump in my throat and said, "Ah, well, I suppose there's the supper bell. Coming, Bingley?"

"Of course!" Charles' face brightened, my lie forgotten. I, however, lingered. What was I, an idiotic infatuated schoolboy? Why did I feel as though I was eight years old again, all excitement and nerves and blind prickly fear? I shook the feeling out of myself. I was a grown man!

But still, the image of a young lady with chestnut locks and teasing, sparkling green eyes followed me to the dining hall.

* * *

 **Hi everyone, I'm back from the dead and the apocalypse that is exams, finally!**

 **I'm sorry for the radio silence, but I've been very busy with my crowded schedule (read: real life and highschool) so I haven't been able to post as much. Since quarter finals are coming up I probably won't post until October 12 at least, but I promise that I'll post at least one update in all my stories before November.**

 **Have a great day and enjoy the double update!**

 **\- Alex**


	5. Edmund Bennet's Revenge

**FITZWILLIAM DARCY**

* * *

The very next day, I was lingering on the balcony, trying to savour as much of the early morning air as I could before eleven o'clock struck. I was unaware of the clock striking that very hour until I heard footsteps behind me.

"Is it dinner already, Charles?" I asked, surprised. I turned to face the bright green eyes of a certain Edmund Bennet: enraged and determined. "I would not correct you, sir," he told me coldly, "but last I checked, I was not named Charles."

"Mr. Bennet," I greeted him. "Good morning."

"I wish I could say the same for you, Mr. Darcy," he almost spat. "You and I have a discussion to make about that careless remark at the assembly."

"What remark?" I desperately searched my memory, finding nothing Bennet could be angry about. I said close to nothing to anyone all night. What was he talking about?

… Oh no. It hit me. The careless throwaway comment to Charles to stop him from forcing me into society any more than he already had. "Oh, dash it all," I muttered. He glared even harder. "Ex- _act_ -ly," he snapped. "Tell me, what was the meaning of that slight, sir? Did you mean to belittle my sister? I will remind you that we are of equal standing in the eyes of London, and if I choose to speak against you, it is my word against yours – and I know you will not deny you said them."

"I meant nothing by it," I replied as calmly as I could. "It was not meant for anybody's ears but Bingley's."

"So you would insult my sister behind her back, would you not? For shame, Darcy, I thought better of you!" Bennet returned testily. "I hear nothing of an apology, and you have presumably had the supper meal to do so. Had it been your intention, you would have done it immediately."

"True," I conceded, my temper rising quickly. "And yet you will not let me get a word in edgewise!"

Bennet bit his lip, and before I could do anything against it his hand rose up and slapped me across the cheek. Hard. The sound echoed in the hall, and he growled from between his teeth, "That was for my sister." Then he gritted out, "I apologize if your ego has been wounded any more than your face has." Before I could say a word, he turned and stormed off.

Pain flared in my cheek, and my temper flared with it. The _nerve_ of him!

My reason grabbed my temper and told it to behave. He was only doing what any older brother would do – defending his sister. God knew I would do the same for Georgiana, and had. Which reminded me that Georgiana's room was somewhere near this very spot, and might have heard me arguing with my old rival.

Edmund Bennet was all spirit and fire, but he had the wits to go with it. I genuinely liked him, but my honour would not let me befriend him – to my university self, to make the first overture of peace would be to admit defeat.

I could understand his point of view.

Before I could go to the parlour as though nothing had happened, Georgiana came rushing out of her room. "Oh, brother, what happened? I heard arguing and a slap and – oh!" No doubt she had seen the red slap mark on my face. "Who did this to you, Fitzwilliam?"

"Never mind, Georgiana," I told her firmly. "He was only doing what I would have done had it been you and me in that position. He was defending his sister."

Her face softened, and her cool fingers touched the bruise. "It should be alright," she observed.

I smiled. "Shall we?"

I escorted her to the parlour.


	6. Miss Darcy and Her Brother's Apology

**ELIZABETH BENNET**

* * *

I watched, half in fear, half in amusement, as my brother stormed back out of the family wing of Netherfield Hall. His eyes glowed almost like an outlandish poison. I almost feared for the arrogant Mr. Darcy if he had met Edmund in the hall. Edmund silently took his seat, glaring at the doorway as though Mr. Darcy stood there.

As a matter of fact, the very man stepped through the door not half a minute later. With him was a slim, tall girl of around sixteen, with wavy flaxen hair and bonny blue eyes. I recognized the shade of the eyes, a sky blue that looked serious but optimistic. I surmised that she was likely Mr. Darcy's younger sister, which Edmund had told me he had.

Mr. Darcy sat, across the room from me, on a sofa next to the fire and near Mr. Bingley and Jane. The blond girl, on whose face I was now starting to pick out some of Mr. Darcy's features, sat down next to him and leaned against his shoulder. The barest hint of a smile flickered across the taciturn man's face. Yes, definitely his sister.

"Oh!" Mr. Darcy started, as though he had forgotten something. "Mr. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy. Technically speaking, she has not come out to society yet, and will not for a year or two, but as she is a guest like myself in Mr. Bingley's house, I think you should know each other."

So I had been right; the young lady was his sister. She smiled at each of us with such a shy pleasure and innocence that I could not help but smile back. Still there was something sad in her eyes that I could not fathom, and I felt for the poor girl. What had happened to her?

I began to target her in conversation because she was so quiet; not seeking to draw her out any more than she wanted. Once I saw the tinge of gratitude in her smile, I pressed on, talking to her of topics that I found interesting. We hit the subject of music, and she grew more animated than I had yet seen her. Mr. Darcy turned to look at me from where he was playing cards with Edmund, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Hurst, and flashed me a brilliant grin.

Taken aback, I faltered for a moment, seeing Darcy's eyes flicker to meet his sister's. Miss Darcy nodded slightly, he smiled at her, and he turned back to the game.

I continued talking to Miss Darcy, who was only very shy. I was glad she was not proud like her brother. And when we got to the subject of our brothers, she turned to me and said, "Miss Elizabeth, is your brother the only male in the Longbourn household?"

I laughed. "Heavens, no! He and I are not of the Longbourn household at all. Do you know of the Bennets of Westbrook? We are they. Mr. Edmund and Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Westbrook."

She smiled. "Do you love you brother very much?"

"It has been only him and me since his graduation, when our father died. Our mother died before that, so we are alone in the world but for our more distant relations. The Bennets who reside here are our first cousins, but you cannot love cousins the way you love your only brother. So yes, I do love Edmund very much."

"I simply adore Fitzwilliam," Miss Darcy informed me, her expression lighting up as she talked of her brother. "He is so kind, and I have observed that brothers like him often scorn their much younger sisters – he is more than ten years my senior, you see – and he has never done that. Even when I was a little girl he used to talk to me as though I were an adult, and tell me about his and – and his friend's adventures. He would take me sledding in winter, and he still does. He has practically raised me since I was eleven years old, when our father died. Our mother died when I was born, and he tells me all kinds of stories about her."

"That does sound like a wonderful brother," I told her. "Edmund claims he is my protector even though I need little protection – his exact words to me on my sixteenth birthday, when I came out. I was always a very roughhouse girl, and together Edmund and I drove our parents mad with our antics. My mother especially used to say that I ought to have been born a boy," I laughed again.

"I was supposed to have been a boy," Miss Darcy said, startling me. "Mother and Father said that they had thought I was another son, and so they had me named George. However, when I was born a girl, they named me Georgiana instead, which was lucky since Fitzwilliam's childhood friend was also named George."

We laughed at the coincidence. "So your brother's Christian name is Fitzwilliam?" I asked.

"Yes," Miss Darcy blurted out, then she laughed her merry, tinkling chuckle. "That sort of just slipped out. Yes, his first name is Fitzwilliam, but while he has no objection, he prefers simply William among family and his closest friends. Only our Aunt Catherine insists on calling him Darcy."

"Really?" I asked. "That sounds strange."

"Indeed. I call him Fitzwilliam unless he is moody and I want to cheer him up." Suddenly the girl looked embarrassed and blushed. "Sorry, I meant…"

"No, no, it is perfectly alright," I said, cheerily. The girl needed someone to show her that not everything she did might step over the line. Was it her brother who had raised her so, or had she simply misinterpreted his lesson? "My brother has his moods as well, and when I want to make him laugh I call him Emmun. I mispronounced his name at first as Emmun, you see."

"Well, my mispronunciation of Fitzwilliam's name was Fizziam," Miss Darcy whispered to me, laughing.

"Well, I must get back to Longbourn for dinner," Edmund said, standing and stretching his legs. "It is nearly half past twelve and Aunt Frances will be in a nervous fit by the time I return. Farewell, Bingley, Darcy, and be good, hey?" He kissed my cheek softly and whispered, "I shall miss you, Lizzy. Come back soon."

"I shall miss you as well, Edmund."

"Farewell, sweetling," he told me, and Miss Darcy looked first shocked, then immensely amused.

When he had gone, I turned to the blonde girl and asked, "What was so amusing?"

Miss Darcy, grinning, answered, "What did Mr. Bennet call you?"

"Sweetling," I replied, mortified that she had overheard. Edmund and his voice! "He has called me that ever since I brought him some sweets as a child to cheer him when he failed a very minor examination in Eton."

"Fitzwilliam also calls me 'sweetling' – that is what is so funny!" Miss Darcy burst out laughing, startling her brother, who frowned in consternation, then began to smile. He looked so much better when he smiled – not proud or arrogant, but kind and generous.

"Well, that is certainly a coincidence. Your brother and mine are the same age, went to the same schools, are rivals, and both call us 'sweetling'." I grinned.

"Really now? I had no idea," Mr. Darcy cut in smoothly, coasting over on his polished black boots. "More ammunition to use against fierce Mr. Bennet. That man has quite a temper, I've seen." I turned to deliver an argument in defence of my brother when I noticed a bruise on one side of his cheek, by now turning purple against his fair skin.

"What happened, sir?" I found myself asking instead.

His eyes flickered downwards as he replied, "I… um, hit the wall." It was a lie and we all knew it.

"What really happened, Fitzwilliam?" Miss Darcy asked.

"Will you promise not to get angry, both of you, for whatever reason? At least do nothing to him." I made the promise, strange though it seemed, and Miss Darcy followed my lead. We looked at her brother expectantly.

He diverted his eyes to a spot somewhere above my head. "Your brother came after me, as I think you suspected, and… all I shall reveal is that he defended his sister well."

"Edmund did that to you?!" I cried, blurting out the first thing to come to mind.

"Yes," he said, looking directly at me with deep cerulean eyes. "I am ashamed to admit that I deserved it. Miss Elizabeth, I owe you an apology."

Miss Darcy swivelled her head back and forth between us, looking confused, though I understood his meaning. "I suppose you do, Mr. Darcy, although that now you acknowledge it, you are forgiven."

He nodded mutely, then smiled again. He really did look much better when he smiled: his eyes twinkled and the severe lines on his face disappeared. He turned to go, but looked back. "And never think that I was forced to do this," he added. "I did it late, but I would have done it had I known you overheard. Forgive me." I did notice Miss Darcy quietly leaving, which left Mr. Darcy, me, and Jane on this side of the room.

I nodded. "Then you are forgiven, sir."

"And… I understand you might feel slighted, Miss Elizabeth," said he, looking at his booted feet. "I would not have you feel so." He paused, as though at a loss as to what to say, but opened his mouth. But he was too afraid to say it, and he walked away without speaking a word.

I was confused. Very, very confused.

* * *

 **Hello everyone!**

 **As a Christmas present, I'm posting on this one that I should've posted since November. And a twofer so look out for Chapter 6/5 depending on your counting! I love you people and I thank you for following this story and trusting me to continue it. You guys are like a dose of fresh air and moonlight. I love, love, love it! And officially, now, these stories aren't about me. They're about you, and the journey you'll go on with my fanfic characters and my OCs. I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Just a bonus: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU, AND TO ALL YOUR FAMILIES!**

 **~Alex**


	7. The Clergyman's Would-be Colleague

**EDMUND BENNET**

* * *

Before much time had passed since Elizabeth and Jane's return to Longbourn, news of the arrival of a certain Mr. Collins reached Longbourn, and I was worried lest our peacemaking cousin take a shine to my sister. Our being on the same level as the nephew of his patroness, though, I highly doubted it. I loved my sister deeply and dearly, and I dreaded the day when I would have to give her away. I only hoped she would find a man worthy of her intelligence and wit, at least.

At any rate, come the dreaded day did, and I found myself waiting in the parlour of Longbourn Manor, pacing the floor in a restless mood. "Is this Collins going to be as foolish as his letter, Uncle?" I wondered quietly.

Uncle Thomas' eye shone with mirth. "I have every hope of it, my boy," said he; "as well as the high hopes of very original entertainment." For once I was bored with my sensible uncle.

When the clergyman was shown into our company, I disliked him immediately. He was rather stubby, and was shorter even than Aunt Frances, the shortest of us all. He also had greasy black hair plastered to his pasty forehead, his lips curling in the most obsequious toady grin I had ever seen, surpassing even the frog I had caught as a boy. The man looked about twenty-five, and looked every bit the toady. His clergyman's clothes were clearly only a veneer for a very proud spirit. Collins was the worst mix of arrogance and sycophancy; the better to annoy us all with.

I frowned as Collins bowed to me and Uncle Thomas, then launched into a speech about how good it was to see us all well, and blah blah blah… honestly I stopped listening to his chatter after about the sixth word, when it would be evident that he would drone on for hours.

I had one ear to his useless drivel and another ear to Uncle Thomas' commentary. The Master of Longbourn was whispering side notes to me as his cousin spoke. However, I allowed my thoughts to wander to last night.

Darcy did have quite the spirit, but I liked him. His sister and mine already seemed thick as thieves and I liked that too. Miss Darcy appeared to be just the mix of shy and firebrand that was my sister's favourite type of person – yours truly excluded, of course. I was her brother, and I could not grow up around her without gaining her ease in company.

I had noted in passing that while Miss Darcy's features almost mirrored her brother's, she was not handsome in the classical sense, not like cousin Jane.

Suddenly, I heard Mr. Collins make a comment about ladies being indifferent to sermons written 'for their benefit' even though said sermons belittled women in general and proclaimed male supremacy, something that was wrong to me and my sister. I had had enough. I rose. "If you will excuse me, uncle, Mr. Collins, ladies, I shall ride." I managed to bow out politely and saddle my horse without raging at that clergyman.

However, when I had made one round of Longbourn, I saw Lydia, Kitty, Jane, and Lizzibeth heading out (to Meryton, no doubt) with that detestable Collins! I reined my horse in sharply and trotted after them. Dismounting, I jogged to catch up, and bowed. "I shall accompany you, if you will tolerate my company, of course."

"You are always welcome to me, Edmund," Lizzibeth told me with a smile that said everything of her relief. Cousin Jane smiled at me and nodded, and my two foolish cousins were too absorbed in their talk of militiamen to pay much attention to me.

Head into town we did, and along the way Kitty and Lydia called out to one of the lieutenants – Denny, I think his name was. He waved and came over, bringing with him a plain-clothes man whom he introduced as his soon-to-be colleague Wickham.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wickham," said I.

We were duly introduced, and Wickham was pleasant in his manner to all. I quite liked the young man, with his easy address and his perfect manners. I recognized him as the Wickham of Cambridge, the most charming student there. I had quite liked him then too. I could see Lizzibeth was quite taken with him, and I smiled. It was only when I heard hooves that I thought to look away.

I saw Darcy, who looked rather softer than I had seen him last, and Bingley, who was as jovial as always. I felt rather ashamed when I saw the yellowish bruise on his face. Perhaps I should not have hit him so hard. He surprisingly turned to me and nodded. "Good morning, Mr. Bennet," said he.

"Good morning to you as well, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley," I found myself replying.

"Oh come now, Bennet, no need for formalities," Bingley said cheerfully. "We were just for Longbourn to ask after your cousin's health." There was no need to ask which cousin he meant.

"As you can see, Cousin Jane is quite well, Bingley," I said.

And that was when Darcy and Wickham noticed each other. Wickham caught Darcy's eye and flushed, while Darcy drew himself up straighter, paling in anger. _Interesting_. What history could they have? "Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Wickham," he said coldly.

"Greetings to you as well, Darcy," Wickham said, which surprised us all.

"Are you two acquainted?" Elizabeth asked of him boldly.

"They were roommates at Cambridge, though they kept avoiding each other," I supplied. Darcy nodded at me, amazingly not angry, and said, "Your brother is correct, Miss Elizabeth. George here and I were childhood friends – he was my father's godson."

Wickham looked startled at being acknowledged. "Well – yes."

Darcy looked torn for a moment, and then said, quietly, "He is a spendthrift and a scoundrel. I would advise you all to stay away from him." He then looked at me and said, "Mr. Bennet, a word."

I went uncertainly, as he dismounted and led me to the side. "He should not be allowed near your cousins and sister, Mr. Bennet," he said warningly. "He will not hesitate to take advantage of them if they show him the least bit of favour. Warn the merchants in Meryton not to extend him credit, and warn all the guardians of young ladies not to let them near him."

"This is all a rather ludicrous accusation, sir," I said. "Can you prove it?"

"I have paid over twenty thousand pounds for his debts over the years, and that is counting after graduation," he replied bitterly.

I was, to be honest, shocked to the core. Wickham – agreeable, charming, smiling Wickham – was… God! It was much to absorb and still more to believe. Could Darcy be telling the truth? Or was he lying simply to get one over on Wickham for being his father's godson? He was looking me earnestly in the eye, and my heart sank. He was telling the truth.

"That is… God."

"I have more proof," he continued. "My father had wanted to help him advance in his career, and had intended him for the church. To that effect he left a certain living to him in his will, but fortunately worded it conditionally – if he wanted to take orders – so that it could be taken as a mere condition. I knew he was not fit to be a clergyman, and so I was relieved when he said he would rather study law. I gave him three thousand pounds, which was the worth of the living, as well as the one-thousand-pound bequest which was his due, and thought it was the last I would see of him. I was wrong.

"Less than three years later, he turned up on my doorstep when the incumbent of the living in question – that of Kympton – and claimed that he was all but destitute. Looking at his spendthrift ways, I could not but believe him. Of course I denied him the living – I had, and still own, the document he signed signifying his receipt of his four thousand. He burst out angrily and left so.

"That is all I can say at the moment, although there was an incident that nailed down the coffin of our relationship that is a very, _very_ delicate matter" – he emphasized very – "which cannot be brought up in public. Understand, it is not myself, but my sister I am protecting. Please, you must understand, Bennet."

My heart plummeted to my stomach. He had looked me steadily in the eye during this whole tale, and Darcy was a man known to be honest, even when brutally so. His eyes pleaded with me so, I could not resist even my old rival. "I shall take your warning to heart, Mr. Darcy."

"I thank you immensely," said he, visibly relieved. "And… I have been thinking. It was only the school's competitiveness that kept us at odds, it seems now. Would… could you put aside your grudge? Would you be willing to be my friend instead?" Shyly, almost haltingly, Darcy held out his hand.

I regarded it. Could I?

There was really nothing wrong with him that a little kindness and understanding could not fix. Besides, we were almost boys compared to our present selves when this rivalry started. We really should have put it aside long ago.

But before I could do more than raise my hand, Wickham walked up. "Ah, hello, Bennet," said he, with far too much familiarity.

I looked at Darcy. His hand was retracted, and I thought I could see hurt in his eyes, replaced by anger. I tried to convey my message that I did want to be friends with him, but he turned to his horse immediately, and dragged Bingley away. I felt a pang of regret. I wanted to become friends with this enigmatic, strangely contradictory man. He seemed to be a loyal man as well.

And right now, I was disgusted with Wickham's company. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Wickham," I greeted him coldly. "Lizzibeth!" I called to my sister. "Let us go home. Bring Kitty, Lydia, and Collins with you and Jane. No matter what they say, they must be on their way _now!_ "

She nodded, and herded our cousins away. Wickham tried to speak to me, but I rushed over to Captain and threw a leg up. For once, my horse, who I had nicknamed 'Dizzy', seemed to comprehend, and galloped back toward Longbourn at a breakneck pace, and I did not let up until Wickham was out of sight.

Damn that Wickham!

The next day our aunt Phillips (although technically she was not my aunt, nor Elizabeth's, she was Jane's) had a card party that Lizzy and I 'simply have to attend'! And though we rolled our eyes and teased and laughed, we went anyway.

I was quite diverted by a game of whist with Sir Lucas, young Mr. Goulding, and Hopkins, when the militia unexpectedly – or not so much for those who were not me and Lizzy, apparently – entered. A low growl escaped me when that Wickham began to make his way over to Lizzy. However, I was playing a game, and it would be very rude to simply stand up and leave, so, in a state of great uneasiness, I finished the game, Hopkins and I winning with 5 points at long last.

You, dear reader, can imagine what consternation and chagrin consumed me when I found Elizabeth deep in conversation with Wickham, and even looking outraged. Oh, what lies was he telling my sister? I very nearly stormed over and slapped him right there. "Elizabeth," I said.

"Yes, brother?" She seemed surprised to find me glaring daggers at Wickham.

"Come here, please."

She obeyed, looking confused. "What is it?"

I beckoned her to the balcony, and then whirled and hissed at her, "What are you doing, talking to Wickham with such familiarity?"

My poor sister looked so shocked that I calmed down and said, "No… I apologize, sweetling, I was just trying to protect you. I… I found from a very reliable source that Wickham is not quite what he seems."

"It is Mr. Darcy, is it not?" she hissed, drawing a sharp breath. "That snake! I had not known…"

"Yes, it is Mr. Darcy. What did Wickham say?"

"He told me about how Darcy was so jealous of his father's affection for him that he cheated him of the living." Lizzibeth's eyes flashed angrily. "How he and Georgiana fell in love but Darcy interfered because he thought in some twisted way that Mr. Wickham was not good enough for his sister."

"What living did he mention?" I demanded.

"…he did not say a name."

"It was Kympton, the parish barely three miles from Darcy's estate. Darcy warned me, Lizzy, and you know how I can tell when he is lying. He looked straight at me the whole time. He was not lying. Tell me, has Georgiana shown any signs of bitterness against her brother?"

"Wickham told me that Georgiana was brainwashed into thinking that Darcy was doing her a favour," Elizabeth said passionately.

When we went home to Longbourn, I was worried. Very, very worried.

Eager to close the breach between us, I wrote Darcy, too impatient to wait for morning and too polite to saddle Captain and ride over.

 _Dear Darcy,_

 _I know you think I refused your friendship, but it is quite the opposite. I do wish to reconcile with you. I find you quite intriguing, and I think you and I would make a very powerful team._

 _I believe you. I know you are a very honest man, sometimes brutally so, and I know you would not lie for something as trivial as this. However, Darcy, I am faced with a problem. My sister believes that man, and even I, her brother, cannot sway her opinion. I need your help, and much as I do not deserve it, I must beg you._

 _In the name of our newfound friendship, Darcy, please._

 ** _Edmund Bennet_**

I did not expect him to actually reply, let alone help me. So I persisted, and Elizabeth and I had a row for the first time in years. She thought Darcy had swayed me over to his side, and she was determined to have me see the light. The row… deteriorated into a fight, and not even the slam of my door could make me feel better.

That night I lay on my bed with a weight on my heart. I loved my sister so, it hurt me to have to see her like this. I needed to let her see the truth, but I feared that it was impossible with both of us being so stubborn.

Imagine then my astonishment when Hill – the butler, not his wife the housekeeper – came rushing up the stairs to tell me between gasps for breath: "Mr. Darcy – here – to see you – sir."

"Mr. Darcy?!" I jumped out of my library seat and dashed to the parlour. Sure enough, there was his tall, lean frame, supporting itself by one arm against the mantel there. "I – I did not expect you, sir."

He turned to me with a smile. "I received your note. Is it really that bad?"

I sighed. "Thank you for coming so quickly. Yes, it is that bad."

"I came prepared," he said. "Here is the receipt for the three thousand and the one thousand, both signed by Wickham himself. Here are the letters, signed by Georgiana and Wickham. He told her they fell in love?" I nodded. "She fell in love with him. He fell in love with her dowry. You wonder why my sister is so shy – she has had her heart broken before. And it was Wickham."

Gentle, beautiful Georgiana? I was both shocked and stricken by this revelation. "They – he…?"

"No compromise occurred, but only by sheer luck. I was able to break it all off before he could make off with her, and he railed at me and at her. She realized what he was." His eyes were full of pain, the skin between them pinched. "Please, do not reveal this to anyone."

"I trusted you, now you must trust me," I said.

He smiled slightly. "If you would please call your sister here."

"Show her the letters first, that will establish Wickham's signature," I suggested. "Then show her the receipts."

"Brilliant! I like the way you think." We both laughed over it before I called out for Kirk and had him send for my sister. When she appeared in the door, scowling, her frown deepened when she saw Darcy beside me.

"Wickham is dangerous, Lizzibeth, and Darcy has brought his proof to help you see that," I said.

"Let us start with the letters," said he, handing her one letter from Georgiana. She went through all of them and glared at him. "So you did break their engagement off."

"I did, but for good reason. Look at this." He showed her the receipts. "This amount was gone through in less than three years, with only himself to please, and he did not even study law as he promised. Here is a letter to prove that." I peered over my sister's shoulder as he handed her the letter. It read:

 _Dear Darcy,_

 _Greetings!_

 _I hope you have heard of my situation. I am all but destitute – it seems the law is not quite a profitable profession for me. Would you help an old friend? I know old Mr. Harrison has died, and now that it is time for you to grant me Kympton's living, I hope that you will remember your dear departed dad and your old childhood friend._

 _Sincerely,_

 ** _George Wickham_**

I pulled away just as she pulled the receipts towards her and analysed the dates. They were real. "God…"

"Georgiana is alright," he said, almost in reply to her unspoken question. "She is still heartbroken, but at least is willing to overcome it, and not to throw away her life. I am proud of my sister, and I think your brother and I find that a common trait, do we not, Bennet?"

"That we do, Darcy."

Elizabeth's eyes streamed tears, and I suddenly felt like a horrible brother for not comforting her through the painful crash her mind and trust in herself had just had. I put my arms around her and she suddenly stood and collapsed against my chest. I stroked her hair, feeling guilty. "Thank you very much, Darcy," I said, grateful to my new friend.

He nodded, eyes suspiciously lowered, and gathered his papers. Softly, he said, "Miss Elizabeth, I did it for your brother. I know you think I am insufferable, and you have a right to say that, but I dislike having you think ill of me. I shall prove myself." And then he left.

I held on to my sister while her tears subsided. I was confused. Very, very confused.

* * *

 **Here ends my twofer and again I want to thank my 192 followers and the 52 amazing people who've favorited my story. I love it. Thank you and Merry Christmas!**

 **To the Guest who reviewed 25 December | 2 am: Merry Christmas to you too! *cyber hug* I know you literally just reviewed now but I thank you for being one of the amazing people who support my writing obsession. Thank you for being there to appreciate the words that flow out of me no matter what. I may need criticism but I also need people to ground me and tell me that I'm okay. THANK YOU A MILLION!**

 **~Alex**


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